


as long as i'm living (my baby you'll be)

by spidermanhomecomeme



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Good Parent Michelle Jones, Good Parent Peter Parker, Lullabies, Parenthood, a sprinkle of angst, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidermanhomecomeme/pseuds/spidermanhomecomeme
Summary: “Wanna trade?” She asks, running a hand over her tired face. “So you can get some sleep?” The look in her eyes, the slight uptick of her lips, feels like a warm blanket, one that Peter wishes he could be wrapped in forever.“No,” he breathes, resting his head against their daughter’s once more. “I’m okay.”i'll love you forever, i'll like you for always
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 113





	as long as i'm living (my baby you'll be)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iovewords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iovewords/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY IOVEWORDS!!!! You are a GIFT to this fandom so here is a GIFT to you!!! <3 <3

He crawls through the window when the sky’s still an inky black, his body aching, bruised and battered from a long night of patrol. 

The room is dark, save for the lone patch of soft moonlight on the wall; he pulls his mask off, releasing a weighted, relieved sigh seeing his wife sleeping soundly, nestled into the mattress, having gathered every last inch of the blanket, her hand relaxed on his empty side. Warmth blooms in his chest; it’s nice, seeing her resting so peacefully after a long seven months. It’s enough to make him forget about the stinging pain in his side, and he feels the longing pull to climb into the bed with her and hold her in his arms.

His muscles groan in protest as he steps out of the torn, slightly bloodied suit, and he curses under his breath as he picks it up, inspecting the little rips and tears along the black and red. It’s nothing that he can’t fix, just the idea that it’s something he has to fix. 

But in all honesty, mechanically sewing up his suit is the last thing on his mind. 

He winces, inhaling sharply as he redresses into fresh clothes, a soft t-shirt, a cozy pair of sweatpants that he’s fairly certain is actually MJ’s. A shower would help, he knows, but he’s not sure if he has any more energy to stand for much longer, too enamored with the idea of sleeping. 

The mattress dips under his weight as he releases a full-body sigh, and he hears Michelle mumble something incoherent, reaching out, still more than half-asleep as she naturally gravitates to him, wrapping her arms around his chest and holding him close. 

Peter’s lips press gently to her forehead, his eyes drifting closed as he breathes in the comforting floral notes of her shampoo. 

He’s drifting on the edge of sleep and consciousness, his breath slowing, deepening as he falls closer and closer to the comforting pull of slumber, when he hears it. It’s quiet at first, so soft a sound that only he can pick up, the unmistakable beginnings of their baby girl’s cry over the crackling of the monitor.

It starts as a faint whimper, sleepy and sad. He stills, listening, waiting instead of moving on his first impulse—as he had her first night at home. The books he and MJ had pored over all said the same thing, and he knows from experience, to give her time to let the storm pass. To give her a chance to cry it out. 

But the minutes pass, and her crying grows into hiccuping wails and sobs, the sound tugging at his heart as he wonders if she’s had a bad dream, if she doesn’t feel well. He feels MJ stir beside him, but he places a hand on hers, silently telling her to stay put, that he’s got this. 

With another tender kiss on her forehead, he sits up, his bones and muscles aching with each movement as he crawls out of bed and walks across the hall. 

“Hey, Bug,” He says softly as he pushes the door open, his little girl’s cries filling the room and pulling at his chest. She looks up at him as he moves to her crib, her eyes teary, her bottom lip jutted out, arms already reaching for his comfort. 

Though, she cries louder as he picks her up, pushing her head into his shoulder, her tiny fist gripping his shirt, her legs kicking out in her sleep sack. 

“I know—I know I’m not Mama,” He breathes out a faint laugh, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he gently bounces on his feet. He plants a soft kiss into her short curls. “I know…” He shushes her, his voice just barely above a whisper as he moves to sit in the plush reclining rocker, grimacing as his knees scream in protest. “You wanted Mom and you got Dad.” 

He hums softly to her, a nameless song, letting her cry into the crook of his neck as he rocks her back and forth. Soon, her cries fade into muffled whimpers and hiccups, and she inhales sharply as she tries to gather her breath. 

“How about a lullaby?” Peter asks gently as she lets out another cry. _“Hush little baby, don’t say a word…”_ His voice starts, murmured so that only she can hear, and she stills, listening for a moment. _“Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…”_

She wiggles in his arms, sniffling in protest. 

“Yeah, I don’t get that one either…” Peter smiles sleepily. “You’re mom would say birds are a government conspiracy, but she’s just joking.” He pauses a moment, letting his head rest on top of his little girl’s. “Itsy Bitsy Spider? Or is that too on the nose?” 

He likes to think that her next cry is in agreement with him. 

Chuckling at his own joke, he closes his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh as she continues to whimper into his shoulder. “What to sing for my little Bug…” He hums, his rocking steady as he soothes his daughter. Her cries pick up again when he falls silent, the same tired grin on his face as he rubs her back. “Shhhh… You’re okay. I know.” 

He breathes out, holding her closer to him, her warm weight on his chest bringing a comfort that wraps his heart in a soft blanket. It’s moments like this, with her, with MJ, where he’s beaten and worn, physically and emotionally exhausted from the crime-ridden world outside, that he’s able to find peace. Moments where the pain is forgotten, even if only for a little bit. 

He cherishes each second that passes, the sinking feeling underneath the warmth reminding him of his other life, of what could happen. There may come a time where he he can’t do this, and he knows this; it’s why he jumps at every opportunity. And he knows the possibility is very real; that one night, he might not come back, he might not be here to hold his daughter. 

That every moment with her could very well be one of the last.

And he knows that while their little girl doesn’t understand yet, he can see it in Michelle’s expression as she watches him put the suit on, as she watches him leap out the window. He sees the relief in her smile as he greets her in the morning, as she wraps her arms around him and clings so desperately. 

There’s a lump in his throat, a burning behind his eyes as she presses his lips to his baby’s head again, lingering as he anchors himself in the moment. She’s still restless in his arms, still crying, the neck of his shirt gathered in her tiny little fist. 

He starts to hum again, low and soft, and her cries fade to tired whimpers. His voice comes out, just so the two of them can hear, and no one else. _“Hush now, my baby…_ Shhhh… _Be still, love, don’t cry...”_ And he keeps rocking her; back and forth, back and forth. _“Sleep as you’re rocked by the stream…”_

There’s a scratch to his voice as his throat tightens, but his heart warms as his daughter finally calms, her breathing slow as she closes her eyes. 

_“Sleep and remember my lullaby...”_ The words only come out in low murmurs now, and he yawns, feeling himself drifting along with the little one on his chest. _“So I’ll be with you when you dream... ”_

He smiles at the soft, tiny snores that come from the bundle in his arms. He keeps humming and rocking, holding her close as he starts to feel the pull of sleep. And instead of moving his little girl back to her crib, he stays in the chair, allowing himself these moments. 

Because it’s then that he’s filled with a certain comfort; he knows that no matter what happens that the love he shares with his two girls will always be there. Nothing can ever change that. 

His smile never leaves as gently rocks the baby in his arms, his shirt still held in her little hand. 

Just as he’s started to float off into a peaceful slumber, he feels a warm presence standing in the doorway. “Hey,” MJ’s voice is soft, like a sleepy hug. 

He looks to her, careful not to rouse their baby. “Hey,” he grins. 

“Wanna trade?” She asks, running a hand over her tired face. “So you can get some sleep?” The look in her eyes, the slight uptick of her lips, feels like a warm blanket, one that Peter wishes he could be wrapped in forever. 

“No,” he breathes, resting his head against their daughter’s once more. “I’m okay.” And then, he looks to his wife again, the corners of his lips tugged into an easy smile. He holds an arm out, beckoning her to him. 

There’s more than enough room on plush rocker, and she knows this. Still, that doesn’t keep her free from the good-natured eye roll as she tiptoes over, gently lowering herself on the edge of his lap and the patch of empty space. Her legs drape over his as she leans into him, his arm coiling around her. 

“Peter, we can’t sleep here,” she mumbles, her eyes closing. 

He huffs out a soft laugh. “I know,” he replies, though he doesn’t move. “Just…” He sighs contentedly. “Just for a few more minutes,” he says, somehow holding the two of them even closer. “Just wanna hold you… For a little bit…”

He can feel Michelle’s smile, the soft press of her lips against his cheek. 

And as he sits there, his two loves cuddled against him, he forgets the aches and pains, his worries soothed. It’s only this moment, the beating of their close hearts. 

“Don’t drop us,” MJ teases, her voice a gentle murmur in his ear. 

Peter laughs lightly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” And then, his voice fades, hushed and soft, filled with a sincerity that warms his chest, blooming. A promise that will never break, even when he’s gone. 

“Always will.” 


End file.
